To Dream of a Nightmare
by Inspiral
Summary: The explosion was years ago. Everyone's forgotten about it... right?Take it as slash or friendship, I don't care. I'm not sure if this will become something more, reviews would be wonderful.


_It took him a moment or two to recognize where he was, his eyes squinting and adjusting as though he were blinded by some light. He was at the lab… but it looked somewhat different. Corners of it seemed dark, and strange. He felt a sense of tranquility set in though, and his feet began to take him foreword. He knew the root to his, well, the DNA lab by heart. He had taken that root for years. It seemed peculiar walking there. Coworkers passed him by, but paid no heed. They were all familiar, but something was different about them. He felt as though he were in a place he did not belong, yet he knew that this was where he was meant to be for whatever purpose._

_He stopped in front of a glass wall and looked in, curiously peering at a figure inside the lab. He must have been seeing his reflection in the glass, but no… he was looking at himself, a few years younger, working away inside. The scene started to look even more recognizable when he turned and saw Sara walking down the hall. She was frowning about something, she looked disappointed. He bit down on his lip before opening his mouth again to call out to her. It was then that something strange reached his nose. Something sickeningly unforgettable, a smell that he remembered had lingered in his nostrils for months after he had been released from the hospital._

_He turned back and watched as his younger form turned also in search of the unusual smell. He wanted to scream to himself to duck, to run, to do something. But instead held his breath and clenched his teeth as the inevitable happened. He threw his arms up to protect himself. Glass shattered as the sound of explosion rang through the Las Vegas Crime Lab. He felt nothing hit him and watched as shards flew through his torso as if he were a ghost. He placed a hand on his chest and the other over his stomach. He was solid… yet he was somehow apart from the lab and those within it._

_He turned in search of himself, the lab darkening and focusing again. He saw Sara, trembling slightly and wanted to run to her. She was on the ground, hands still hovering slightly over her head, but looking off at something else. He followed her gaze to see himself barely conscious, lying on the ground. He watched his younger form slump onto the floor and darkness clouded his vision._

_Confusion found its place in his mind; he could hear what sounded like muffled shouts all around him. He thought he heard his name a few times, but then only nothing. It was all just noise that he could only barely hear. Orange light seemed to light up the lab again, remnants of a fire. He watched a stretcher pass him by, Grissom trailing after it with a look of concern and thought etched onto his face. His eyes traveled down to the small, weak-looking form and saw himself yet again. Grissom was saying something to him, but as it had been before when he was looking up from the moving cot, he couldn't distinguish his voice from the paramedics barking orders overhead. The sound seemed to lessen and become even harder to comprehend until it just seemed to fade out entirely, his ears ringing from the blast as they had for a short time while he was in the hospital._

_He watched his own eyes close and the world darkened again…_

He knew his eyes were open, he felt his lids blinking, but it was just as dark as when the nightmare had ended. His first reaction was that he was blind when he realized that it was just simply… dark. His eyes adjusted and focused, he was in his room, in his apartment. He sat up and felt immense heat on his back and sides which somehow resulted in his shiver. He ached with a phantom pain he knew could not be real. The explosion had occurred years ago… so why was he having such a nightmare now? He felt a similar sensation of fear dancing in his mind. While becoming an official CSI was his primary reason for wanting to leave the lab, there were other motives as well.

It had seemed to him to take a lifetime to be well enough to leave the hospital. He tried so hard to ignore his dread when he returned to the lab and put on a false smile, at least to assure the others around him that he was alright. But it took a good while before that smile was genuine again. He didn't feel safe… anywhere. He felt childish when he had been too nervous to use his own stove for a few days after he was able to return home. He had been so scared when he first awoke in the hospital bed, unable to hear the nurse that was speaking to him. His hearing had returned, but sometimes he wished to be deaf. He felt himself flinch at every loud noise. He hated feeling so weak; he couldn't let his friends know he was a coward. He remembered staring himself down in the mirror of the bathroom every night, forcing back the tremors. He clenched his fists so often to hide the shaking that it became a habit whenever he felt stressed. He gripped his shirt tightly now and pulled his knees up to his chest.

_"Why now? Why is this coming back __**now**__?"_ he thought to himself. He glanced at the nightstand beside his bed. He reached out towards the phone before jerking his hand back, _"I'm being ridiculous, I don't need to bother anyone because of a stupid nightmare…"_ He slid back under the covers, but did not close his eyes. He lay there for moments; staring at the wall… he couldn't risk replaying that scene again. It was difficult blocking out the memories awake, but… in his sleep, his mind was vulnerable and his subconscious was deciding to be a real bitch at the moment.

He sighed and reached out for the phone again. He sat for a minute, just listening to the dial tone as he contemplated the call. He felt silly; he shouldn't be scared, especially not now. That was years ago. If he could keep the fear away then, then he should be able to do it again… right?

"No," he whispered in response to his own thoughts. He couldn't hide from it anymore, he had to face it. Every so often he would awake in a cold sweat like this and take the same action of staring down the phone before refusing it and lying awake for hours before having to go into work. He needed to talk to someone. Slowly he dialed the number, hoping he wouldn't be disturbing the one on the other end of the line.

The phone rang once, twice, three times before a groggy voice picked up on the other end, "Hello?"

He was the only other one who could possibly understand how it felt, "Um… hey, Nick, sorry to wake you but… I need to talk to someone, it's kind of important."


End file.
